


Seventeen

by the_auxiliatrix



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-05
Updated: 2018-01-05
Packaged: 2019-02-28 14:01:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13272951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_auxiliatrix/pseuds/the_auxiliatrix
Summary: They only want you when you're seventeenWhen you're twenty-oneYou're no funThey take a Polaroid and let you goSay they'll let you knowSo come onRachel is an aspiring model.She thinks she's ready for what that entails.She isn't.





	Seventeen

**Author's Note:**

> TW for Mark Jefferson and everything that goes with that.

A click, a flash, a whir.

Max is one of the best photographers around, so of course you'd ask her to do your headshots.

Plus, she's your best friend's girlfriend, so, you know.

It's free.

You were mad when she came back into Chloe's life.

Gone for five years, and then back like nothing ever happened.

Like _you_ never happened.

But you understood.

She's better for Chloe, anyway.

You were mad when Chloe said she couldn't go to LA with you.

But you understood.

She's always seemed like more of a Portland girl, anyway.

You were mad, but you understood.

And then, you were less mad.

Because you got to meet Max.

Because you got to meet who Chloe is when Max is around.

And that made losing Chloe worth it.

So now, you're going to LA.

Alone.

Just you and your headshots.

* * *

Modeling is hard.

You're too short. Your boobs are too big. Too small.

It's been months.

You're almost out of money.

You've gotten a few call-backs, but nobody was interested in taking you on full-time.

Until you met Mark.

He's a photographer.

You've seen some of his work before.

It's beautiful. Haunting.

Not quite what you had in mind.

But he's the only person willing to give you a chance.

He's the only one who's even considered you for a position without asking you to suck his dick.

Rachel Amber doesn't suck dick.

Well, there was that one time.

But she was cute, so it doesn't count.

So you take the job.

The pictures are weird.

Tied up, blind folded, pretending to be dead.

You're pretty sure he was taking pictures of you once while you took a nap in the back room.

But, it's better than fellating a greasy old man, so you deal.

Modeling is hard, but LA is fun.

Mark teaches you how to party.

How to _really_ party.

The coke in LA is better than anything you and Chloe ever got from Frank.

You lose time, sometimes.

At parties, usually.

You assume it's the drugs.

It's a pretty good assumption; sometimes you over do it.

But sometimes, you feel gross, and you don't know why.

Time means less than it used to.

Sometimes, you blink and hours pass.

Sometimes, minutes feel like days.

You start having nightmares.

Of walking down an endless hallway.

Of being tied to a chair, tape over your mouth.

Of being held face down on a table, screaming, trying to get up.

Of storms and monsters. Of bottomless pits.

Sometimes, you can't remember who you are.

You think about Chloe less than you used to.

Mostly because you think less than you used to. 

Sometimes, though, you remember.

Sometimes, something brings you back.

A sound, a smell.

The whirring of a Polaroid.

The revving of a truck.

It's fuzzy, though.

Click. Whir.

Kissing Chloe. (trapped)

Click. Whir.

Meeting Max for the first time. (you're trapped)

Click. Whir.

Dancing at the Firewalk show. (can't move)

Click. Whir.

Meeting Sera. (so dark)

Click. Whir.

Jumping off a train. (can't breathe)

Click. Bang. (nothing)

There's nothing.


End file.
